


We speak the same language after all.

by exbex



Series: Let Me Go Home [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8606416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exbex/pseuds/exbex
Summary: “So that either means we make a great team our a really lousy one,” and Eric freezes, because somewhere between the week he moved to Vegas and now, he started thinking of Kent as his best friend, and he has no idea if Kent even thinks of him in remotely the same manner.“Unstoppable duo, definitely,” Kent murmurs, his eyes drifting closed again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The prequel.

“I really, really appreciate this Kent, but, um, why are you here?” Even as he asks, Eric winces inwardly. Because he hasn’t lived in Georgia for a while now, but he also hasn’t forgotten his manners, and he can almost see his mother’s disapproving look. But the days in which Eric and Kent were in the same social circles are long past, Kent and Alexei having broken up a few months after Eric and Jack had broken up.  
It’s been a long time since Eric has interacted with Kent outside of social media, but here Kent is in Eric’s new apartment with groceries and takeout (quality takeout at that), and maybe it says more about Eric than it does about Kent, but Eric can’t figure out why.

He’s expecting Kent to respond with something about it being a “welcome to Vegas” gift. He is not expecting Kent to lean back in his chair, set his wine glass carefully down on a coaster and look Eric straight in the eye with a contemplative look and ask a question without a hint of his trademark smirk. “When was the last time someone actually cooked or brought food for you?”

Eric blinks. “Um…” He wracks his brain, trying to come up with an answer, but finds that he can’t remember the last time someone else did all of the cooking. It’s been him in the kitchen alone or with some assistance for a very long time.

“That’s what I thought.”

“It’s what I do,” Eric says, and it’s a little more defensive than he actually means for it to be.

“It is,” Kent replies. “So much so that you could be selling over-priced desserts out of a bakery, but you’re working for a nonprofit that’s trying to give people who live in food deserts access to better nutrition.”

Something warm spreads through Eric’s chest, but as he doesn’t know quite what to do with it, he presses it down, choosing to feign offense instead. “Mr. Parson, I hope you’re not implying that my baking wouldn’t be worth every penny.”

Kent’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Oh no sir.” And something settles, but the spell isn’t entirely broken.

**

Eric bites his lip as Kent leans into his chair and lets out a moan that borders on obscene.

“Bits, I knew you had good hands, but wow.”

Eric is grateful that Kent’s eyes are closed and he can’t see the blush spread across his cheeks. “I knead a lot of dough.”

“We have people who do this, you know. Athletic trainers and such.”

“I have it on good authority that you spend more time making sure your teammates are getting taken care of than you do getting yourself taken care of.”

Kent opens his eyes halfway, but doesn’t crane his neck to look at Eric. “Well, someone has to keep them from falling apart.”

“Sounds awfully familiar,” Eric replies, “but who’s watching out for you?”

Kent smirks. “I have it on good authority that that’s pretty rich, coming from you.”

“So that either means we make a great team our a really lousy one,” and Eric freezes, because somewhere between the week he moved to Vegas and now, he started thinking of Kent as his best friend, and he has no idea if Kent even thinks of him in remotely the same manner.

“Unstoppable duo, definitely,” Kent murmurs, his eyes drifting closed again.

Eric breathes and allows himself a fond smile.

**

It’s not a blind date, but it feels about as comfortable as one. Eric flashes back to freshman year and the man he has dubbed The Shoe Regurgitater. He can see the same patterns emerge and wars between his instincts to help the guy get home and his intense desire to slip out unnoticed.

Ultimately, the decision is made for him. Brian isn’t so drunk that he he’s stumbling around, but he’s tipsy enough that he’s chatting up someone else who seems eager to be chatted up, seemingly having forgotten that he had asked Eric out days ago.

Eric’s not that insecure eighteen-year-old anymore, so he doesn’t take it personally. Well, he takes it a little personally, but figures there’s nothing for it. No use crying over spilt milk and all that. Eric’s not his eighteen-year-old self who still felt a little lost in his first semester of college, so he decides to cut his losses, head home and get some guiltless sleep.

He is apparently destined to run into hockey captains after bad dates, however, because while he’s passing an entirely different bar, he nearly literally runs right into Kent.

“Bitty,” Kent is blinking at him incredulously. “Fancy meeting you here. I thought you had a date tonight.”

“Oh I did. But he apparently found someone he liked better, ‘cause he ditched me. So I decided to head home.”

Kent is staring at him so intently that Eric wants to fidget. “Is he blind?”

“What? Oh, no, I know him; he volunteers sometimes. He asked me out a little over a week ago.”

“No, I mean, is he literally blind? Because he’d have to be.” Kent frowns. "No, I take that back; that's an insult to blind people. He's just an idiot."

Eric feels his face flush and wonders why he’s blushing when Kent is clearly the one who’s the biggest dork in the western hemisphere. “Ah, no.”

“Well then I think we should go out. Help you forget about the biggest tool in Vegas.”

“It’s getting late Kent. We both have work tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.” Kent’s face falls a little, but then his eyes light up. “Tomorrow night. You, me. Whatever you want.”

Eric grins. “Sure Kent. I’d like that.”

Kent claps him on the back and grins. “Alright then. It’s a date. Now let’s get you home.”

Eric just gives his best smile in return and ignores the butterflies that are suddenly hatching in his stomach.

**

Eric has never made the first move before. At this moment, he’s wondering why he decided to break that pattern.

He pulls away from Kent. Kent, who is not kissing him back, is staring at him, eyes wide.

“I’m sorry,” Eric stutters out. “I just thought…you know, that things were-going in that direction, I guess.”

“Uh…”

“I know,” Eric looks down at his t-shirt as he twists the ends of it in his hands. “I know I’m not really your type.” He frowns, then looks up. 

“I mean, I have the cute accent and the brown eyes and the bubbly personality, but none of it’s wrapped up in the tall, dark, and handsome package…”

“Bits,” Kent finally interjects, and he puts his hands on Eric’s waist. “You’re wrong.”

Eric blinks. Someone needs to educate Kent about his propensity for mixed messages.

“You’re fucking gorgeous. Even if you are short.”

“Excuse you. I’m average h…” but he’s interrupted by Kent’s lips on his.

When Kent pulls back, his expression is more open and unguarded than Eric has ever seen. He shrugs, but a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. “Takes me a while to get the message, sometimes.”

 _This boy, ___Eric thinks, and pulls him in again.


End file.
